


Death of the Fey Queen

by evilchewbacca



Category: Cursed (TV 2020)
Genre: Gen, Tragic Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25918021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilchewbacca/pseuds/evilchewbacca
Summary: "Death is not the end, Fey Queen." But what if it was, speculative fic on what goes through her mind moments before death.
Kudos: 8





	Death of the Fey Queen

**Author's Note:**

> No happy ending. It's speculative in what I imagine Nimue is thinking at her death. Reposting this after I deleted because it was originally going to be a series, but I thought it better as a one-shot.

It began with darkness and pressure on her body beyond compare. She was sinking, Nimue was sure of it. Deep into the water, where the pressure builds and the urge to breathe through her lungs will grow much stronger, breaking her will to hold her breath. She was already quite a bit deep in, she supposes the shock hindered her ability to do much under the circumstances.

However, she lacked too much energy to even be able to crack open her eyes a little in order to confirm it. But the pressure and her arms lack of strength against fighting the water due to the large volume of it was confirmation enough. Otherwise, she was sure she was meant to be dead. After all, she was pierced with multiple arrows and fallen over a hundred feet into the water.

She couldn't remember how fast that fall down to the water from the edge of the bridge must have been. But it had to have been quick for she couldn't remember entering the water at all. Nor could she remember those precious seconds before, not truly anyway.

Only little moments here and there of hours before to moments before.

The first memory to accompany her in the depths was that of this morning. She remembered lying in bed with Arthur just as Daybreak had come, his teasing of her snoring making it seem such a bright, joyful time as if not 24 hours later she wouldn't be sinking to the bottom of a lake, bleeding out in droves.

She supposes she was tainting the water with blood, which would have otherwise must have been a beautiful sight. _It wouldn't be the first time;_ her brain couldn't help but muse in a sort of demented amusement. It would just have been the first time she tainted it with her own with such alarming volumes that could only originate from mortal blows.

The next memory to reach her was that of Pym. Her lament at having to leave without Nimue and knowing that it was quite possible that she would never see her friend again. How little could she have known she was right in her fears. She remembered Pym's arms surrounding her bringing her closer, leaving her warm with nostalgia for those moments as a child, before the sword came to her possession, before even the demon bear. Those moments when the two, innocent and naïve in all ways, would run around the fields till they were blue in the face struggling for breath.

At the thought of such a struggle, a burning began from the bottom of her lungs, claiming the memory. Demanding that she must breathe and must breathe now in order to survive. But her body couldn't know how futile it was, the water surrounding, the sheer volume of it fought back her every movement. Even at full strength, couldn't fight this. Much less now with a huge gaping wound in her torso. _And your heart,_ her mind reminded her. She held her breath longer with the only thought to seeing everyone she loves just once more, even if it is through memory alone.

 _Gawain_. Or at least, what had remained of Gawain was what she saw next. And she felt her soul break for she hoped for a better memory when it came to see. Her brother of heart and soul tortured to death and dragged before her after the fact. She knew they had him and yet she didn't save him immediately. She doesn't even know if it would have made a difference. But she wishes she could have. All she would have of him now was his corpse and her memory of laying above it screaming and mourning until passed out and was subsequently dragged away. She hopes it would be his face welcoming her wherever she goes, after she passes. She hopes he will envelop her in his arms and never let go, for that would be the sweetest fate that could befall her.

She almost felt the urge to attempt to breathe already, to let the water in just to see him now. To join him in the after sooner. Maybe her mother would be there too. Welcoming them both. With sorrow plain on her face, but they would be together again, a family. But with the burning her lungs also came a pain in her heart, reminding her of all those she still loves that she would like to revisit before death more than anything.

Next, she saw Morgana, arriving in time with the sword and saving her. Heroic Morgana, welcoming darkness and the unknown by killing the Widow in her name. Her scream as Iris's first arrow knocked into her body. And the screams continued as the other made its way to join the other, in its new home in her body. Morgana's love would be what she would take from that moment no matter how violent and bloody the circumstances may have been.

The burning rose more and more in her insides – everything was struggling in her now: all her muscles screaming for oxygen and joining her lungs in a chorus. _It's almost funny how no matter how much the mind knows to do something is dangerous, the body does everything in its power to do it anyway. And when the mind demands it is necessary to do something, the body will protest the whole way through,_ she couldn't help but contemplate the thought _._ She found herself still fighting to hold on just a bit longer.

Next, she saw the subject of her last act as this savior figure – as the "Wolf-Blood Witch" – Merlin. She couldn't help but want to cry as she remembered the struggle of her father as he did all he could, weak as he was, to catch her and hold her by her hand in an attempt to pull her up. She always wished to be so loved by a father like this, one that would grieve her. Believe in her and fight for her as best he could.

But he had failed. Just as she had. For Morgana and Merlin were alone up there with Iris and the Red Paladins hot on their trail. How could they protect themselves amongst all of them? For Merlin's magic was gone and Morgana's experience as the Widow is so limited. If the original Widow could be killed, could she too be? Even if it were by an arrow? She felt she had left them to their deaths and then there was Squirrel, the little mischievous boy he was. He always sought to protect her from those that persecuted her, and she had failed him. For she hadn't made it past Iris, she hadn't made it back to free him. What would they do to him? Would they torture him to death as they had done to Gawain? Or would they slaughter him quick for he was a boy who could surely know nothing? She didn't know which the better outcome would be.

Then her thoughts went to her people, those that chose to follow her. Were Arthur, Kaze, and Wroth successful in their task? Or had Uther went back on his words and went along with the paladins after they had ambushed his camp? And if not, had the Red Paladins gone to slaughter them too?

Perhaps for all she knew they would see each other once more in the after. All joined together once more. Perhaps there would be true peace. No matter how morbid the idea seemed, she pushed herself to see it as an optimistic probability. For she could be with all those she loves, for she will not be alone in this path. And at last, they would all be free from a life of persecution and death.

With that thought she felt herself preparing to breathe, her body taut with anticipation – probably still believing in the chance of survival. While her mind hoped for her own little version of a haven in the after. And she breathed in, allowing all the water in. The sensation was odd and violent as she felt her body react naturally, hacking out all the water it could in an attempt to rid itself of all the water, yet only letting more in to join the rest. She felt her body contort and fight, but there was nowhere to go. The pain was unlike anything else. Only the thought of peace kept her going. And it felt as if it went on forever…until… there was a sense of peace as she felt herself start to shut down slowly, her mind wondering miles away as she began to see an image begin to take place in her mind's eye, however blurry it may be, she had a sense of what it was, _who_ it was. And she felt herself drifting slowly as if she were merely slipping into a dream.

This journey… odd as it was in some ways and satisfying as it was in others. Was at its heart tragic. For it had begun with chaos and destruction of her mother and her home at the hands of the Red Paladins and gave her a magic sword that guided her in some vengeance only to end in death for more, including herself. There was nothing left, nothing but a reluctant watery peace for them all.


End file.
